For As Long As You're Mine
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: This is in response to many requests for a sequel to Beneath the Surface, and it's in chapters. Teyla is destined to be married, but it is not to the one you think...Inspired by the song of similar title in the musical Wicked
1. Chapter 1

For As Long as You're Mine

"So the great adventurer lives."

John Sheppard's eyelids felt terribly heavy, and it took a long moment for him to be able to open them. When he finally accomplished that, he could not focus very well, but he could have been blind and still known who had just spoken so sarcastically.

"Nice to see you too, Rodney," Sheppard muttered. At long last, he could see clearly, and took in the familiar sterile surroundings of the infirmary. His left arm was in a cast and sling, and he was swathed in white sheets. Rodney stood by his bedside, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw slightly sideways---his characteristic "you have some explaining to do" expression on his face. John was confused.

"What?" he demanded, his voice sounding hoarse. He tried to move his shoulders, feeling strangely weak.

"What do you mean, 'what'?" Rodney countered bluntly. Sheppard grimaced.

"How long have I been lying here?"

"Oh, roughly a day," Rodney answered impatiently. Sheppard moved again, and pain jolted down his left side, which nearly made him bite his cheek. Stifling the urge to scream, he eased back onto his pillow and glanced over at Rodney.

"Okay, so enlighten me as to why you're glaring at me like that," John said tightly.

"You don't remember?" Rodney exclaimed. "You don't remember anything?"

"Yeah, I remember," Sheppard said, though at the moment he was bluffing. Everything, including the present moment, seemed very hazy right now.

"Then what happened out there?" Rodney wanted to know, indicating the door, and probably the Gate. That part Sheppard did remember.

"I fell in a hole," John answered simply.

"And...?" Rodney waved a hand, wanting him to go on.

"And it hurt!" John replied crankily. "I think I nearly died."

Rodney threw up his hands and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, for crying out loud. Teyla told us THAT part."

Fog still filled John's brain, but for some reason his stomach tightened at that name. He shot a look at McKay.

"Teyla?" he repeated. Rodney almost had a fit.

"Now he's got amnesia!" Sheppard could tell that McKay was reaching the limits of his exasperation.

"All right, do you want me to tell you what you did?" Rodney pressed closer and looked at him directly. John's eyes narrowed and he turned his head slightly. The fog in his mind was gradually lifting, but he still did not know what Rodney meant, and it made him nervous.

"Okay...shoot," Sheppard allowed.

"You walked through that Gate, bleeding like a stuck pig," Rodney pointed at the door again. "Stood there in front of Teyla and told her you loved her."

John's head slowly came around and he stared at Rodney, feeling all the color drain from his face. Rodney began to nod quickly as he saw John understand.

"Yep, yep, you did that!" He leaned back a little. "I watched you."

John was speechless. He swallowed hard but could think of nothing to say.

"Don't you remember?" Rodney kept on.

"I..." John finally stammered, his gaze unfocusing. "I..I had a dream like that."

"Nope," Rodney shot off. "Real. And then she kissed you."

Recollection shot through John's soul like a beam of sunlight. His mind cleared instantly as the memory of that sensation flashed vividly back to him. But then every muscle tightened.

"Yeah...I remember that part," he muttered, not looking at McKay.

"Well, you must have lost a LOT of blood," Rodney chuckled. "'Cause it looks like you didn't mean to uh...say that. At least not at the moment." He grinned as if in triumph. "But I could always tell that you two were, I mean, that you..." Rodney stopped, then restarted on a different thought. "When were you going to tell me? Or anyone, for that matter?"

"I lost a lot of blood..." John murmured, his heart beginning to pound. Suddenly, it all was rushing back to him in crystal-clear images and painful feelings: the barren, frozen planet, the drones coming up from the ground, his falling down a type of missile silo and getting stabbed by the sharp machine below----Teyla following him, bandaging his wounds, lying beside him all night to keep him from freezing...refusing to leave him...

"I said I loved her, huh?" Sheppard risked a glance up at Rodney. Abruptly, Rodney stopped, as if he had tripped over something.

"Wait, you...you DON'T love her?"

John's brow furrowed as he risked a search inside himself. But all he found there was uncertainty and shadows. Slowly, he shook his head.

"I...No. No, I...I don't know what I was doing."

That was the last straw for Rodney.

"All right, I give up. I OFFICIALLY have no idea what is going on." He shook his head, then pointed at Sheppard. "But you're going to have to figure out what to tell her."

"I think I'd rather shoot myself," Sheppard whispered, suddenly feeling nauseated.

"Hey guys."

Both men jerked to see Ronon leaning his head through the door.

"Hey, Ronon," Sheppard greeted, trying to compose himself. Ronon gave a rare smile.

"Good to see you alive, Sheppard."

"Yeah, you too. I heard you almost got cut in half," John managed.

Ronon shrugged.

"Been through worse."

Normally, Sheppard would have given him a hard time about that ridiculous claim, but right now he felt nearly sick with nerves.

"Did you hear about the transmission we just got?" Ronon questioned.

"I just woke up," Sheppard reminded him.

"What transmission? Nobody told me anything!" Rodney was upset.

"It's not a big deal," Ronon assured them. "It's just kinda weird."

"Well can we hear it?" John questioned. Ronon shrugged.

"You'll have to read it, actually. The frequency was kind of weak."

"Rodney, sneak me one of those wheelchairs," John whispered, glancing around to make sure Dr. Keller was not within earshot.

"You're not supposed to move!" Rodney protested.

"I'm fine! Now would you bring me the stupid wheelchair?"

"All right, all right," Rodney grumbled, and with Ronon's help, he sneaked a wincing Sheppard out of the infirmary.

"What have we got guys?" Sheppard questioned as he painfully limped up the stairs. They had to leave the wheelchair on the main floor, because there was no lift, but Sheppard insisted that could walk the rest of the way. Zelenka and Elizabeth turned to face them.

"John, you're supposed to be flat on your back!" Elizabeth admonished.

"I'm fine," John assured her.

"You just came out of major surgery," Elizabeth would not relent. "Dr. Keller didn't even let Teyla go until---"

"I said I was fine!" John snapped with more-than-necessary force, but he could not help it. Someone had said that name gain. "Now what's going on?"

Instead of getting angry, Elizabeth stepped back, and he felt himself instantly under the scrutiny of her piercing eyes. He swallowed again, becoming intensely uncomfortable. He wished she would just get angry.

"Well, it's just a short message. It looks like a riddle or something," Zelenka told them hesitatingly, easing into the awkward silence.

"A riddle?"

John froze, his eyes flashing. It was her voice. And the next moment, she spoke his name.

"John? What are you doing here?"

And then she took hold of his arm from behind. It was like he had received an electric shock. At last, he forced himself to turn and look at her. She wore her traditional light-purple civilian clothes that always flattered her figure so gracefully. She bore several cuts and bruises, but, as always, appeared resilient and strongly beautiful. However, this time, open concern shone in her eyes, and a vulnerability that he had scarcely seen there before.

All at once, she terrified him.

"I'm fine," he said again, but his conviction was gone. That was probably why she did not let go of him. Perceiving slight movement, glanced at the others---then his face burned to see the small, knowing smiles that they tried to hide. He wished she would let go.

"Yes---take a look here," Zelenka continued, as if determined to maintain normalcy. He punched a few buttons, and all of them approached the large computer screen at one end of the deck. They stared at the words that blinked to life there, and Elizabeth quietly read them out loud.

"_A prince in the guise of an enemy flies_

_Assail him not for fear of harm_

_Dead men walk---trust not thine eyes_

_Thy promised one possesses the longer arm._

_Do you remember me, Altellath?"_

"Like I said...weird," Ronon rumbled.

"Okay..." John looked at it sideways, trying to make his leaden brain kick back into gear and ignore how close Teyla stood. "So...what does it mean?"

"We're not certain yet, of course," Elizabeth crossed her arms, furrowing her brow at the message. "The signal was weak, and didn't seem to come from any particular planet. Just---

space."

"We're trying to isolate the frequency---it came in with quite a bit of interference," Zelenka informed them. "It took us quite a while to even----"

Teyla sat down hard, almost missing the chair. Startled, John jerked, and the pain made him bite his lip. Teyla had lost all her color, and seemed to see nothing but the computer screen. Elizabeth started toward her.

"Teyla? What's wrong?" Elizabeth searched her face. Teyla dragged her eyes over to meet hers.

"_Altellath_..." she whispered, as if she could not catch her breath. Her gaze suddenly sharpened and she reached up to catch at John's sleeve. "That message...they---"

Rodney suddenly swore in his most panicked tone. John whipped his head around to see what had happened. The display screen showed him all he needed to know before Rodney had a chance to announce it.

"Hive ships! Three of them! They've just come out of hyperspace and they're heading right at us!"

"How far away?" Elizabeth demanded.

"I would say---really close!" Rodney buried himself in his computer, his eyes wide.

"Cloak the city!" Elizabeth ordered.

"We're being hailed!" Zelenka declared.

"Don't answer!" Rodney shot back. "They're trying to establish our position!"

"Ronon," Elizabeth turned to Ronon and met his gaze directly. "Take Colonel Sheppard down to the chair room. Colonel, prepare to fire drones when I give the command."

"Yes, ma'am," Ronon nodded crisply, and faced Sheppard expectantly. Abruptly, Teyla grabbed John's right arm with a tighter grip than he knew she possessed.

"John, no!" she said through her teeth. "They're not Wraith!" She seemed on the verge of tears, which sent John reeling in further bewilderment. She shook him. "Look at the message---don't you understand? '_A prince in the guise of an enemy flies / Assail him not for fear of harm'!_ Open a channel! Talk to them!"

John stared at her, frozen.

"What, are you crazy?" Rodney yelped.

"John," Teyla gritted, staring fervently at him. "Please. You have to trust me. Talk to them."

His heart thudding, and hardly knowing what he was doing, John slowly nodded.

"John? Are you sure that---" Elizabeth questioned.

"Teyla says it's okay," he said shortly, in a voice that hardly sounded like his own. "Do

it."

There came a long pause.

"All right---Open a channel," Elizabeth said, reluctance filling her tone. Rodney took a few terrified and disbelieving seconds to obey, but a beep finally resounded through the room. John could not take his eyes from a trembling Teyla.

Suddenly, a rich laugh rang through the room. John righted himself and Teyla came up with him. They all stared at the screen in utter astonishment.

Looking back at them was a very handsome, rugged young man bearing trimmed beard and an elegant silver circlet that rested upon his dark auburn curls. His brown eyes sparkled as he laughed.

"Forgive me for frightening you so badly, Atlantis," he said sincerely, his voice deep and warm. "I knew that the presence of three Hive ships would startle you, but it was only a few minutes ago that I realized you had just received our message."

Teyla let go of John's coat and slowly stepped around him. The young man's smile faded and he stared at her in what appeared to be wonder.

"Prince Faegen?" Teyla breathed.

"Teyla Emmagan," he said, his brown eyes clearing, as if solemnly confirming what had before just been wishful thinking. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought the same of you," Teyla confessed, still not regaining her color.

"Pardon me," Elizabeth asked, taking a step forward. "But who are you and why did you come to us in Wraith Hive ships?"

Prince Faegen regarded her in an easy, reassuring manner.

"I am Prince Faegen. My father is the ruler of the Luthrians. We travel and trade widely, and just came from where the Athosians now reside," he answered evenly. "A few of us came upon them by accident, and were quite overjoyed to be reunited with our old friends."

"You know the Athosians?" Elizabeth was surprised. Prince Faegan nodded.

"Oh, yes. My people and the Athosians have been well-acquainted for many generations. It was from them that we discovered that Teyla had survived the culling of her people several years ago." He returned his gaze to the young woman. A strange, prickling sensation ran up John's spine.

"My people were doubtlessly very happy to see you as well, my prince," Teyla supposed. However, she looked slightly faint. A few weeks ago, he would not have hesitated to step up behind her to support her, but now everything in his gut shouted at him to stay as far away from her as possible.

"They were," Faegan confirmed. "Though I was saddened and disappointed to see how their numbers had dwindled.

"The people of Atlantis are my people now as well," Teyla quickly added, swallowing hard. Prince Faegan smiled understandingly. John's brow furrowed.

"It is as I supposed, then. I am glad to hear it," Faegan said brightly. He then addressed Elizabeth. "If you do not mind, myself and my entourage will beam down in about half an hour to meet you personally, and to discuss one important matter." His eyes flicked over to Teyla again. Elizabeth glanced at the others, but John knew she could not hesitate for long or she might lose influence in the sight of the prince. She nodded.

"We will be waiting for you."

The prince nodded again, and the screen blinked and went dark. Rodney, Zelenka, Elizabeth, Ronon and John's eyes all turned to Teyla.

"Teyla, I would very much appreciate it if you would fill all of us in concerning these Luthrians," Elizabeth suggested, folding her arms again. Teyla took a deep breath and swayed slightly.

"Woah, easy now." Ronon stepped around John and took hold of her and sat her back down on the chair. She looked up at him gratefully, and he did not take his hand from her shoulder. John retreated, his heartbeat still not slowing.

"I am sorry." Teyla brushed a hand across her eyes. "It is a long story, and I do not think I can get through it all before he comes." She lifted her eyes to all of them. "The most important thing you need to know, however...is that Prince Faegan and his people...are immune to the Wraith feeding process. Any Wraith ships they have now---they probably took by force."


	2. Chapter 2

I'm so glad everyone is liking this! I've been writing furiously to get the next part out to you. I hope you continue to enjoy...

"What are you doing?"

It sounded like a bear growling in John's ear. He cast an irritated look over his shoulder at Ronon.

"What do you mean?" murmured back, determined not to be intimidated.

"You know what I mean," Ronon's voice rumbled.

"Quiet," John reprimanded, for Elizabeth was striding down the stairs. They all stood in the Gate room, formally awaiting their guests. John had carefully maneuvered himself so that Teyla stood on one side and he on the other, with Ronon, Zelenka, Rodney and Dr. Keller in between them. John watched Elizabeth take her place, and glimpsed Teyla trying to catch his eye for the third time in two minutes. He avoided her, instead drawing himself up to his full height and staring directly ahead, as he had when his drill sergeant had been striding up and down the ranks screaming.

"Sheppard, you---" Ronon began threateningly, but he could not finish. The air in front of them suddenly shimmered brilliantly, and then everyone in the room took an awed breath.

Before them stood seven men, ramrod straight. Six of them poised there in single-file military formation. They wore knee-length, long-sleeved scarlet robes embroidered with silver, black velvet pants, and shining dress boots that matched their pants. Flashing swords hung from their elegantly-crafted belts. Their hair hung down to their shoulders, and each bore a small tattoo of two dark dots above a single red line just beneath his right eye. But the Atlantians noticed the escort as a mere afterthought---for the splendid figure leading the entourage had instantly captured all their stunned attention.

He was tall---a good head taller than Sheppard---and even more handsome in person than he had appeared on the screen. He had broad, thick shoulders, and from them hung a long, elegantly-draping white robe trimmed with glinting gold. His feet were shod in soft white leather boots, an even more elaborately-made sword hung from his crimson belt, glittering rings adorned his fingers, and the light from the windows flashed off of his lordly circlet crown. He stole everyone's breath away. If anyone in the room had ever imagined a prince, no one else could have better suited.

"Good morning," Prince Faegen grinned, and his pleasant, dark, refined tones reverberated through the Gate room.

"Good morning, Prince Faegen. Welcome to Atlantis." Even Elizabeth, who had been suspicious before, could not resist smiling.

For the first time, John risked a glance over at Teyla. This time, though, she was staring at the shining prince. Abruptly realizing that he could not remember the last time he had shaved or combed his hair, John cleared his throat uncomfortably and messed with his collar. However, he forgot about his hair when the prince turned to Teyla.

"Teyla," His smile grew warmer, and when he spoke next, his voice was more tender. "_Altellath_." And he stretched out his arms to her.

John straightened and his brow furrowed as he watched intently. Teyla hesitated a moment, then delicately stepped toward Prince Faegen, her eyes on his face. He took her gently but firmly by the shoulders and waited a moment. Unexpectedly, Teyla smiled, just a little, and lowered her head. Faegen slowly did the same, and their foreheads touched.

John twitched. However, he instantly stopped himself, for he felt Ronon's eyes. Prince Faegen raised his head and regarded Teyla fondly, only dropping one hand.

"It has been many years, has it not?" he said. "I am very glad to see you are safe."

"I feel the same," Teyla answered, though in a slightly unsteady voice. Then Prince Faegen's gaze sharpened, his smile faded and he looked her up and down.

"You are hurt!" he realized. "You have cuts and bruises and---"

"And a broken rib, yes," Teyla finished for him, chuckling a little. Alarm flashed through Sheppard, instantly followed by a surge of guilt. So preoccupied with his own pain and turmoil, he had completely forgotten Teyla's injury.

"How did you sustain these?" Prince Faegen's hand tightened protectively on her shoulder.

"I---" Teyla turned her head toward John. He froze. "I had to rescue that man. He had fallen down a missile silo and was badly injured."

"This man?" Faegen finally dropped his hand down to his side and faced John.

"Yes, Prince Faegen," Elizabeth stepped forward. "This is Colonel John Sheppard, head of our most elite special operations team."

"It is a privilege to meet you, Colonel Sheppard." The prince inclined his head. John nodded stiffly.

"Yeah...you too," he attempted, feeling clumsy and decidedly un-courtly. Elizabeth went on with the introductions, but John could not hear them. Ronon's eyes were burning into him from behind, and though she had now looked away, Teyla's single glance across the room had utterly stilled him.

"I was going to ask _you _to show me around Atlantis," Faegen addressed Teyla again, cutting into John's thoughts. "But since you are injured, I would rather you rested."

"Oh, my prince, I assure you that I am---"

"Do not trouble yourself!" Faegen interrupted. "There will be plenty of time later."

"Yes...Yes of course," Teyla's pleasantness seemed a bit strained.

"You are certainly right, Prince Faegen," Elizabeth now stood beside him. "The resident head scientists and I would be happy to give you a tour."

Sheppard knew that this had a double meaning---she was showing him a high honor while at the same time keeping a close eye on him.

"Sheppard," Elizabeth said crisply. "You and Ronon may take Teyla back to her quarters. You, miss," she cocked an eyebrow at Teyla. "Need to follow the prince's orders, and mine as well: _rest_."

"Yes, Elizabeth," Teyla sighed, and with one last friendly nod at Prince Faegen, stepped down toward John and Ronon.

"I think I'm gonna---" John started.

"You aren't going anywhere," Ronon hissed through his teeth so Teyla could not hear, and grabbed the back of John's shirt.

"Well, it seems you are my escort," Teyla tried to sound cheerful as she came to John's side. He could tell that she was about to touch him---take his hand or his arm again---but he could not let her do that. A storm was building inside him, one that he did not understand or control, and contact with her would only make it worse.

She read it in his eyes. Her hands, which had been almost reaching for him, stopped, then withdrew. Her smile faltered, she blinked and glanced down, flushing. Ronon's grip on his shirt almost started to pinch John's back, so he stepped away and shook him off.

"Come on," he griped, and started toward the hallway. Ronon stalked after him like a storm cloud, and Teyla hesitatingly trailed behind.

John led the way the entire trip, fighting to keep all expression from his face, though his arm and side were killing him. He heard Ronon slow down and fall into stride with Teyla.

"So...who is this prince guy?" Ronon wanted to know, a slight touch of sympathy in his tone.

"His people and mine have long been...friends," Teyla began, albeit uncertainly. "My people used to be much greater in number, and his were far less grand. We were more equal."

"And his people got lucky?" Ronon guessed. John guided them down another corridor, one with a burnt-out light. Their voices and footsteps echoed up and down the hard-surfaced space. His side was really hurting him, now.

"Well, it seems that something in their water, or air, or even just in their genes makes them...distasteful to the Wraith. Even poisonous," Teyla explained.

"Cool," Ronon concluded.

"Yes, very," Teyla admitted. "They only realized this when I was a young girl, actually. And then they came upon their own natural resources, precious metals and fuels, mostly, and began a fight against the Wraith. The last I heard of Prince Faegen was that he was going to battle against three Hive ships. After that, we heard nothing and were forced to relocate. We thought for certain he was dead."

"That explains why _he_ has the Hive ships," Ronon mused.

"Yes."

"But why did he call you that weird word? '_Altellath_'?"

For a moment, Teyla did not answer.

"That...that is an ancient word," her voice tightened. "It...Well, it means...betrothed."

There came an instant of shocked silence.

"_What_?" Ronon cried.

"I...yes. I've been betrothed to Prince Faegen ever since I was ten," Teyla told him softly. "The engagement is not to be broken unless one of us has died."

John's vision suddenly flickered, and he staggered sideways into the wall.

"John!" Teyla exclaimed. He felt as if he was going to be sick---he was in so much pain. She took his hand, which had grown cold, and thus the warmth of her fingers swept up his arm. Without hesitating, she took his arm and draped it around her shoulders, pressing against him and supporting him with all her strength.

_She pressed her body as close to his as possible, absorbing the cold of his limbs and willing the warmth of hers to enter his. _

_"I am not leaving you, John Sheppard," she said fiercely again, pulling him tighter..._

John felt as if he was back in that cold fog where he had lay dying. He could hear the memory of her voice echo back to him within that freezing abyss. But now, even though she pulled in close beside him and her breath brushed against his neck, he had never felt so far away from her.

"John, can you hear me?"

Teyla's words sounded slurred, but he sensed her touch his face with her fingertips. His vision was fading. His head drooped. He could not feel his legs anymore.

"Ronon, help me! He is going to fall!"

That was all John heard before darkness swallowed him again.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the great reviews! I am striving to make this as good as I can for all of you---and writing like a crazy person!

John faded back to consciousness gradually, sluggishly. In a few minutes, he was aware enough for a few sleepy thoughts, the foremost of which was:_ I've been drugged_.

He literally dragged his eyelids open, and it took a good two minutes for him to focus. He was lying in the infirmary again, but this time, Elizabeth, Dr. Keller and Ronon stood around him, as well as Rodney. The overhead lights seemed very bright, and he groaned.

He hated passing out. It gave him a massive headache. He closed his eyes again.

"Okay...How long have I been asleep _this _time?" he muttered.

"About two days," Elizabeth responded. "Dr. Keller gave you a sedative so that you would actually heal and not try to get up again."

"Hm," John grunted resentfully. "That was nice of her."

"Well, if you weren't so stubborn, I wouldn't have had to."

John was not operating on all thrusters quite yet, but he still detected an edge to Dr. Keller's voice. He opened his eyes and glanced at her as she gently but swiftly moved his broken arm to get at his side.

"You tore out all your stitches when you fell against the wall," she continued, completely businesslike. She did not look at him as she lifted the bandage. "I had to do the same surgery again."

"Are you...Did I do something wrong?" John questioned bluntly, watching her face. "I mean, besides pulling my stitches out."

She did not answer, but her mouth tightened. At last coming fully to himself, John detected a definite air of disapproval permeating the room. He glanced up at Dr. Keller again.

"Did I miss something?"

"The stitches look pretty good right now," Dr. Keller ignored his question. "You

should---"

Then John noticed.

"Where's Teyla?"

Dr. Keller stopped for a moment, then regarded him critically.

"Oh, so you suddenly care?" Rodney blurted. John's gaze darted over to him, but though Rodney took a slight step back, he lifted his chin defiantly. Dr. Keller cleared her throat.

"Now that he's awake, I'm going back to my office," Elizabeth declared into the awkward silence. "I have some things to see to before the meeting."

"Meeting? What meeting?" John demanded.

"Dr. Keller," Elizabeth turned to her. "Will the colonel be able to attend, in a

wheelchair?"

"I don't want a---" he started to protest.

"Yes," Dr. Keller nodded at Elizabeth. "I just have to change his dressing, and he will be there---in a wheelchair."

"Very good," Elizabeth turned and left the room. John felt a sinking sensation in his gut. Some of his friends would not look at him, some were ignoring everything he said, some flat-out accused him, and others---Ronon----just leaned against a pillar and fixed on him a smoldering glare.

"I'll go get the bandages," Dr. Keller said to no one in particular, then moved off to another section. After making certain that Dr. Keller was out of earshot, John narrowed his eyes at Ronon and McKay.

"All right, what's the deal?" he wanted to know. "Do you guys want to tell me why everybody's suddenly mad at me?"

"McKay told us what you said," Ronon bit out.

"What I said when?" John blinked.

"When you came to last time," Rodney explained innocently. "About how you didn't love Teyla."

John's mouth fell open.

"You...Rodney!"

"What? Was that classified information or something?" Rodney asked indignantly. John felt sick again.

"Well, _no_, but..." He trailed off. He had almost asked: _Did you tell Teyla?_ But that would have been a stupid question. Of course he had. Otherwise she would have been here when he woke up.

"So what's the deal with _you_, John?" Ronon advanced threateningly on him and grabbed the foot of his bed. "You changed your mind or something?"

John had suddenly had enough.

"I have a right to do that, don't I?!" he snapped, his good fist clenching. He could not help it---he felt cornered, with no weapons to fight a foe that he had never encountered before. However, at his last words, Ronon and McKay lapsed into stunned silence. John turned his head away from them and bit his lip.

"That's not fair, you know," Rodney said quietly. "I mean, to tell her that and then...I mean, she thinks you..." Not knowing what else to say, he shifted uncomfortably, turned and left the room. The door hissed shut behind him. John cast a look up at Ronon out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" he asked tightly. Ronon did not answer. His eyes just blazed for a moment, then he shoved against the bed and turned to follow McKay.

"So...where _is _Teyla?"

The words fell out of John's mouth before he gave them permission, but they stopped Ronon. The Satedan sighed, then turned back around, his face hard.

"She's with the prince."

John kept from swallowing, and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeah. Well, he's probably...better company anyway."

Ronon said nothing for a moment.

"She cried in her room last night."

John became still. He fiddled with the edge of his blanket.

"She did?" John could not manage more volume than a murmur. Ronon nodded.

"Yeah," he rumbled harshly, then raised an eyebrow. "So don't miss the meeting."

Ronon swept out of the room and the door swished shut.

"Bandages," Dr. Keller clipped, startling him. She returned to his side, lifted his red hospital shirt and began to change his dressing. Her hands were cold. John winced at her touch.

"So...do you want to tell me what's bothering _you?_" he asked.

She said nothing.

"I...don't particularly want my doctor angry with me, if you know what I mean." He tried to sound light. The unexpected glance she gave him shot him full of venom. She returned her attention to her work.

"A girl hates uncertainty more than anything else," she said shortly. "If you didn't mean it, you shouldn't have said it. Teyla deserves better than that."

John's blood cooled.

"A prince?" he ventured.

She cocked an eyebrow, then narrowed her eyes at him.

"Maybe."

A few minutes later, Dr. Keller wheeled John through the corridors toward the meeting hall. John felt like was being escorted by ice-woman. She said nothing, and pushed him along at quite a brisk pace. They turned a corner---and Dr. Keller gasped, then pulled John to a jerking halt. She had almost rammed him right into Prince Faegen's knees.

"I'm sorry, sir," Dr. Keller stammered, doubtlessly blushing.

"It's quite all right," Prince Faegen said sincerely. He wore deep blue robes this time, trimmed in silver, but the robe was not as long---it looked more battle-ready, like those of his entourage. For some inexplicable reason, a wish to deeply hate this man surged up inside John, but when Faegen turned to him, John was surprised that he had no ability to summon up a visceral dislike. The prince was about his age, and though John searched his features with a prejudice, he could not find a trace of arrogance or superiority. Nobility, certainly, and confidence, but nothing condescending. Try as he might, he instead noticed smile-lines, dark, perceptive eyes and an amiable set to the prince's mouth. There was goodness there---deep-seated goodness that he had only sensed in a few people, such as Carson Beckett---and Teyla Emmagan. _Blast it._

"How are you feeling, Colonel?" the prince wondered cordially. "Teyla told me the story of how you were injured."

John's face burned.

"Yeah, well, we all have our clumsy moments," he muttered.

"On the contrary," the prince's brow furrowed. "It is a testament to your stamina and strength that you survived."

_It's a testament to Teyla's faithfulness---that's all_.

John bit his cheek hard.

"Thanks," he gritted.

The prince watched him for a moment, then smiled good-naturedly.

"Well, I won't get in your way. Hope to see you again, Colonel; Dr. Keller."

"Yeah," John managed. The prince swept past them and Dr. Keller began pushing him again. John glowered fiercely to himself. Why couldn't the prince be stuck up, stupid, tactless or just plain evil? _Then_ John might be able to figure out what to do. Instead, Faegen had spoken politely, kindly and in a complimentary fashion. John gripped the armrest of the wheelchair and clenched his jaw. There was no getting around it: the prince was a good man. That same nausea settled back into John's stomach.

_BLAST it. _

All of them sat in Elizabeth's meeting room, just as they had so often before. But this time, Sheppard still wore his hospital clothing, and sat silently in his wheelchair. Next to him stood Ronon, then Rodney, Elizabeth, Dr. Keller, and clear across the table sat Teyla.

When John had been wheeled in, Teyla's face had lit up and she had beamed at him, almost as if she could do nothing else. Though he could not return the smile, he gazed back at her. Her happy look had faded.

But even now, John could not take his eyes from her. She looked lovely today---well, even lovelier than usual, and wearing civilian clothes. He did not know why, but he could not stop staring. Strange. Yesterday it hurt him to look at her. Today it hurt him to look away.

He had no idea what was happening to him.

"All right," Elizabeth folded her hands on the tabletop. "I called this meeting because I have become aware of a fact that could cause drastic changes for this team: Teyla has been betrothed since childhood to this Prince Faegen of the Luthrians. I think we have all heard that by now," Elizabeth leaned back. "And we must decide what we are going to do about it."

John forced himself to glance down, now. He had no control over the storm of his emotions, and the last thing he wanted was for all of them to be on display.

"So, Teyla..." Dr. Weir asked carefully. "What are you planning to do?"

John heard Teyla take a deep, unsteady breath.

"I must marry him."

No one spoke.

"_What?"_ Rodney yelped. "You are actually going to go through with an _arranged marriage? _You're going to _marry _someone who just waltzes in here and says 'hey, our dads talked it over twenty years ago and thought we'd be great together; wanna get married?'? That's..._ridiculous, _not to mention completely uncivilized."

"You have never heard of such a thing, Rodney?" Teyla countered, sounding tired. "Such a concept is foreign to your people?"

"_Yes_," Rodney answered definitively.

"And it has always been so?" she pressed. Rodney hesitated.

"Well...no," he admitted, suddenly quieting. "Not...Not entirely."

"But Teyla, you don't love him," Dr. Keller finally spoke up earnestly. "How can you marry someone you don't love?"

Her words hung in the air. Without his consent, John found his eyes drifting up toward the Athosian woman across the table. Her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her head was slightly lowered, and one strand of hair hung prettily down over her fair, troubled forehead. Her dark, shining eyes flicked up to John's, just for an instant, then returned to her hands. Her right thumb slowly tapped the back of her left hand.

"Those are the laws of my people." Teyla replied softly. "Death is the only thing that could break such a compact." She shivered slightly. "The only possible way that I...That I would be freed from this engagement...would be if I had thought for certain Prince Faegen had died...and another man had claimed me as his own."

Everyone hesitated.

"You mean, if you had married someone else while you thought the prince was dead?" Elizabeth guessed, leaning forward intently. Teyla leaned her head to one side. Speaking was difficult.

"Yes, but...it wouldn't even have to be that. It could just be that he proposed...or made a public declaration."

No one moved. As if it was against her will, Teyla lifted her head and met John's eyes. They locked there, and John could not breathe. Silence fell.

Under the light of Teyla's gaze, John became keenly aware again of how scraggly and rough around the edges he was. He had not shaved in three days, nor combed his hair; he had a broken arm and a torn-up side. Beyond that, he could not speak clearly when he wanted to, could not think straight, and had made so many bungles and errors in his life that he would probably be embarrassed even at what would be said in his eulogy.

And then there was Faegen---a tall, strong, clean-cut, good _prince---_who had heard of Teyla and come running to her. More than anything else, the prince was assertive and decisive. He knew what he wanted.

John did not. And if they were expecting him to stand up and basically propose to her right this moment---define all the rest of his life and everything in it right here and now---he couldn't do that. He was not ready. He was not certain he would ever be.

He lowered his eyes.

He could almost feel Teyla's heart breaking. The waves of disappointment and disbelief emanating from everyone else nearly smothered him.

"You may announce it, then, Elizabeth," Teyla finally said lifelessly. "It will...cement an alliance between Atlantis and the Luthrians. His people's immunity to the Wraith...and his ownership of the three Hive ships will be...extremely helpful to us---to _you_." Her breathing trembled. "We will need about a week to get ready, though. Our weddings are...grand affairs. There are preparations that need to be..." She could not finish. John stared at his fist.

"Forgive me," Teyla choked, got up and hurried out of the room. Ronon followed swiftly, "accidentally" kicking the wheel of John's chair as he passed. No one could think of anything to say. One by one, they drifted out of the room. The last to go was Elizabeth. She stood in the doorway, her back to him, then glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry that this happened, John," she told him softly. However, he got the feeling that she was not sorry for _him_. She left.

He sat there, motionless, staring at the tabletop. In a few minutes, Elizabeth's voice rang out over the city-wide communication system.

"People of Atlantis---We are proud and...happy...to announce the official engagement of Prince Faegen of Luthria, and Teyla Emmagan of Athosia."


	4. Chapter 4

4) It has come to my attention that I made an error: Athosians are from Athos! I DID know this...my brain just sort of took a break there for a second. Sorry:) I shall strive with all my might to avoid errors like that in the future! Please forgive me!

I hope you enjoy this next part---it's longer than the others!

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Two weeks passed swiftly. John spent the first few days in the infirmary, then in his quarters, and then on very light duty.

He avoided everyone as much as possible---especially Ronon, who he thought was going to kill him, and Rodney, who he apparently could not trust with his personal problems. Elizabeth and Dr. Keller, also, were treating him strangely, as if they did not know what to make of him.

He did not shave, and did not bother much with his hair. Though the pain in his side and arm greatly lessened, he walked the halls of Atlantis with a slight limp, as if he had been hurt in a place he could not find. He rarely saw Teyla, and when he did, it was in a large group from afar, and she always stood or sat beside the prince. Luckily for the colonel, nothing of great galactic importance happened or was going to happen---except the wedding.

It was to be held on the mainland, amidst some beautiful ruins that had been dutifully prepared and decorated by the Athosians during this two-week period. All of Atlantis was also invited to the grand ceremony---considering that the alliance would also be made with them. Colonel Sheppard had been personally invited by Prince Faegen himself. John did not think he would attend. He actually planned on being sick that morning.

Two nights before the actual event, John paced through the hollow, darkened corridors, once more unable to sleep. It was past midnight, he knew, but that did not matter anymore. What value was there in lying in bed, staring at the ceiling? The lack of physical exercise made his body restless, and the lack of an occupation sent his mind reeling in a thousand equally unproductive directions.

_Maybe I should just go back to Earth_, he muttered to himself, not for the first time. _I should have just stayed there in the first place. Everything would have been better if I'd never come. _

"John?"

Too tired to be startled, he stopped and slowly turned, seeing Elizabeth hesitate in the hallway behind him.

"Oh, it _is_ you," she realized walking closer. "I...didn't recognize you. You're walking differently."

"Yeah, I...must have pulled a muscle or something when I fell into that shaft," he mumbled, not really looking at her.

"Oh?" Her brow furrowed. "Where do you hurt?"

He shifted, then shrugged.

"I dunno. It depends on the day." He finally lifted his eyes to her, and unexpectedly found her gazing back at him with sympathy. But it was not a sympathy he was comfortable with. He decided to concentrate on a crack in the wall instead.

"John," Elizabeth began, clasping her hands in front of her and lowering her head. "I know that...Well, not all of us have been...particularly _helpful _to you these past few weeks. I wanted to tell you---"

"Forget it," John cut her off. "I don't really wanna...talk about that, if you don't mind."

She stopped, and once more he felt her studying him.

"Are you going to the wedding?"

John swallowed, still assessing the crack, and licked his lips.

"I uh..." He bit his lip and shook his head. "No. No, I'm not going to the wedding."

"Really?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "And what excuse are you going to give Prince Faegen for your absence?"

"Who needs to give _him _a reason?" John scoffed, jerking his head. "Like _his majesty_ would notice, anyway."

"Well, what reason are you going to give Teyla?"

John turned and stared at her. She waited. His jaw tightened angrily.

"I plan on being sick with a migraine, or throwing up, or just the good-old-fashioned shooting myself in the foot," he replied with dark sarcasm.

Elizabeth appeared to be reading something in his reactions, though he had no idea what conclusions she was reaching. She nodded slowly.

"I see."

"Yep," he grunted. She drew herself up and took a breath.

"Well, you are clearly in fair condition now, so I suggest you postpone your illness or injury, go back to bed, and then tomorrow take a shower, shave, get into something presentable---meaning your dress-blues," she said pointedly. "And arrive _on time _for the pre-ceremony banquet."

"The what?" John asked numbly.

"It's the Athosian and Luthrian equivalent to a rehearsal dinner," Elizabeth explained. "And I am ordering you to at least make an appearance."

"But---"

"And just to make sure, I'll have Ronon come get you around six."

"Sorry; I only know military time," John protested feebly, but she was not listening. She had already turned and begun walking down the corridor.

"Good night, Colonel," she called back. He did not answer. After listening to her footsteps die away completely, he stood for a moment, staring down at his boots, then resumed his aimless wandering.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Getting himself cleaned up was not an easy task anymore---not when the hot water of the shower seared up and down his stitches, and when he had to keep one arm completely clear for fear of getting the cast wet. Getting dressed had been an adventure the past two weeks, but he could always manage getting his pants on, and socks and a shirt.

Today, however, it was a button-up shirt---which took almost fifteen minutes---and a tie. A ridiculous, infuriating tie. He simply could not do it with one hand, and he could not move the fingers in his left hand sufficiently for them to be of any help---it was too painful. He stood there, in front of his mirror, wrangling and struggling with that tie for twenty minutes.

He glanced at his clock. It was six already---and now he was just ready to hang himself with this stupid piece of cloth.

Someone knocked on his door. He fought to keep from snapping something rude and impatient.

"It's unlocked," he managed through his teeth, attempting once again. However, his fingers still would not stretch as far as they needed to. He heard his door swish open, but he did not care. His patience was gone. He yanked the tie from around his neck and threw it on the floor.

"Well, I see you shaved your beard," he heard Ronon comment. "At least now you kind of look human."

John glared at him, trying to calm his breathing. Ronon, who was not wearing anything particularly out of the ordinary, leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, an almost amused expression on his face.

"I can't tie my...my _tie_ with one hand!" John ran his fingers helplessly through his hair. "I'd ask one of the girls to do it, but I'm scared Elizabeth or Dr. Keller would strangle me. And Teyla..." His throat unexpectedly closed and he could not finish. He swallowed, swiped the tie up from the floor and fumbled helplessly with it again. Ronon softened.

"Let me help you." He suddenly strode forward and crisply took the tie out of John's hands. With crisp force, he wrapped it around John's neck and swiftly tied it, adjusting it to its proper length. John stared at him in astonishment.

"How'd you know how to do that?" he demanded. Ronon shrugged.

"It's just like a noose we used on Sateda---it was for hunting Wraith." He cinched John's tie up so it was just comfortable, then fixed his collar.

"Yeah, sure. Why didn't I think of that?" John forcibly made his tone casual. Truthfully, he was almost painfully relieved that Ronon was halfway treating him as a friend again. Ronon dropped his heavy hands down on John's shoulders and kept them there, forcing John to address his dark and level gaze.

"You still have a chance, you know," Ronon told him deeply. John's throat tightened as he realized what he meant---what he expected. Ronon squeezed John's shoulders in a rough, encouraging way, then slapped his good arm.

"C'mon. Get your coat and we'll go."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Teyla knew she looked pretty tonight. For this dinner, she had found a long, stunning light-blue evening gown with a fitted bodice, tasteful V-neck, fluttering short sleeves, and an elegant, sweeping skirt that almost became a train in the back. Elizabeth had loaned her some high-heeled silver shoes, which fit nicely. Teyla had done her hair up in a high, loose bun, leaving a few curling tendrils hanging down so they danced around her neck. She had donned a delicate sparkling necklace, and even wore a little makeup. Normally, she would not have taken such pains, and all week had not been planning to do so. But then Elizabeth had told her a secret:

John was coming.

Now, as Teyla stood in front of the mirror in her chambers, her heart pounded and something seemed to press hard into the middle of her chest. Her stomach was in knots. She did not believe she would be able to eat anything at dinner.

A tap came on her door, and she jumped.

"Come in," she said pleasantly, trying to gather herself. The door opened, and there stood Prince Faegen and his entourage. He looked just as splendid as ever, wearing deep purple and gold, and a grander crown. Teyla sighed, the deep sadness settling down into her that she always experienced in his presence. He smiled at her kindly.

"You look very beautiful tonight," he told her.

"Thank you," she accepted courteously. He held out his hand to her. Making her feet move, she came to his side, took his arm, and started down the hallway toward the banquet.

It was some distance to walk from John's quarters to the mess hall, and he was nervous enough not to feel talkative, so he and Ronon said nothing. However, they were not the only people heading to the dinner, and soon the conversation of two women behind them caught John's ear.

"What's the deal with that Athosian greeting----you know, where they put their foreheads together?" one asked.

"Oh, actually, I got curious about that the other day and looked it up in the database," the other replied.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It looks like it means different things, depending upon who it is. And it depends on who lowers his or her head first, too."

"Really?"

"Yep. Between two Athosians, or their allies, the one lowering their head is saying 'I give you my respect and honor,' and the person who lowers the head second says 'I accept.' That works especially when the first one is a younger person. If they do it at the same time, it shows mutual respect."

"What about non-Athosians who aren't allies?"

"Well, seeing as non-Athosians usually don't know about the custom, the Athosian will probably be the first to lower his or her head, and that's actually a pretty special occasion."

"It is?"

"Well, it means that the Athosian is giving the non-Athosian her complete trust."

"Wow."

John felt pricked. He tried hard not to listen and just keep walking, but he could not help it. The second lady went on.

"And then, there's a third instance that it might happen, and that's in really important situations, either ceremonial or just emotionally significant."

"What's that?"

"This could happen with the Athosian or the non-Athosian, but whoever lowers his or her head first, in a really important event, is saying 'My fate is completely in your hands.' And the person who lowers his head second says 'I will take care of you.'"

John grew pale.

"I'm not gonna be able to eat anything tonight," he muttered. Ronon took him by the back of the neck in a brotherly manner.

"C'mon, buck up, Sheppard," he said quietly. "You've seen scarier things than a namby-pamby prince and a pretty girl."

John said nothing; only nodded mutely, for though he was glad for the encouragement, he knew Ronon's words to be a terrible falsehood.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The instant Teyla entered the mess hall, her eyes began searching the large, slightly noisy crowd. She absently noticed that the room had been decorated lavishly, and did not at all resemble what the military personnel would call the "chow hall." Long tables lined the room, instead of the small, square ones, and these were covered with white table-cloths, beautiful, colorful flowering centerpieces, and table-settings. Silk banners and garlands hung from the ceiling, and she faintly detected music playing in the background.

She hardly noticed all this finery. Even the majesty of a good number of Prince Faegen's people, newly-arrived, did not do more than briefly catch her eye, and only because a good number of them were wearing navy blue. She did catch sight of Elizabeth and Dr.Keller across the room, dressed elegantly in scarlet and emerald dresses, respectively. The other two ladies glimpsed Teyla as well, and began to make their way toward her.

"There is Dr. Weir." She pulled slightly on Prince Faegen's arm so that he would stop walking. He perceptively did so, and happily greeted Dr. Weir and Dr. Keller when they neared.

"Good evening, ladies."

"Good evening, Prince Faegen; Teyla." Dr. Weir gave Teyla a reassuring glance before returning her attention to the prince. "I hear that all of your people arrived safely?"

"Yes," he nodded, pleased. "I just heard from my father as well---he should be arriving shortly."

"That is good to hear," Elizabeth smiled politely. "It will be a great honor for Atlantis to host a king."

"Oh, believe me, he is as honored to be received as you are to have him---perhaps more so. Though I daresay..."

The rest of Faegen's speech was lost on Teyla. Her eyes had caught sight of Ronon entering the room through the far door, perhaps fifty meters away. Ronon stopped and turned, and said something.

And then _he _walked in.

Almost literal, aching pain shot through Teyla at the sight of him. He had shaved and had taken some care of his hair, though it still retained some of its endearing messiness. And he was wearing his Air-Force dress blues. Teyla doubted they realized it, but when the military men of Earth donned their dress uniforms, their sharp, straight-backed, confident appearance could easily snatch the female attention away from even the magnificently-dressed Luthrian warriors. John Sheppard was no exception, even with one arm in a sling. He strode forward, head erect, looking calm, serious, and staggeringly handsome. And until that moment, Teyla had not quite realized how desperately she loved him.

He stopped beside Ronon, and his eyes began searching the throng. Teyla did not breathe, and could not even make herself turn away.

_Look somewhere else!_ She commanded herself, though in vain. _Do not let him see you staring at him!_

Too late. His eyes found her. It was as if she had been jolted by lightning. He lingered on her face, then looked her up and down---not rudely or obtrusively at all, but with unguarded admiration. He swallowed hard. Teyla felt faint.

"Are you all right, _Altellath?_" the prince spoke in her ear, concerned. She sucked in a breath sharply, then glanced at him, smiling reflexively.

"Yes, yes I am fine."

"Shall we go sit?" he invited, his dark eyes searching her face. She cast a look back over her shoulder where John had been, but people had moved and hidden him from sight. She wilted slightly.

"Yes. Yes, we should sit down," she answered.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Needless to say, Teyla could not do more than pick at her food, though she imagined that had it been served in any other circumstances, it would have been delicious. She made herself converse with the dignitaries around her, but she could not retain the topic very well. She attempted to sit up straight, smile and be polite and presentable---despite the fact that her heart was tearing.

Even the arrival of the king of Luthria, which occurred with great flourish and fanfare, barely shook her out of her reverie. The old, grand man, bearing a strong resemblance to his son, was dressed in great, glittering finery and a tall, sparkling crown. He took his place at the head of the table, next to the prince, and kindly spoke to both his son and Teyla. Teyla had met the kindly, white-bearded king once before, and had enjoyed his company. She sadly wished that she could have visited with him in other circumstances, when she would have found pleasure instead of pain in talking to him.

After dinner some Athosians entertained the group with love songs, and then everyone rose from their seats to visit with each other and enjoy refreshing, after-dinner drinks. Teyla stood beside the prince (as always), his father, and two of their stiff, ancient household advisors. She felt the advisors assessing her with every question they asked, and belatedly Teyla realized the stunning reason for this: someday, she would be the queen of Luthria. Her smile abruptly became very hard to maintain.

A Luthrian servant came up and whispered in the prince's ear. The prince listened intently for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes, bring him here, please," he answered. Teyla's brow furrowed.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Teyla went ice cold. Her heart began to pound. Hesitatingly, she turned to see John Sheppard standing behind her, his good arm behind his back. The prince straightened, slightly surprised that John had not waited to be bidden, but greeted him warmly.

"Good evening, Colonel Sheppard."

"Hi," John nodded a little and gave a small smile. His eyes flickered over to Teyla's for a moment, then returned to the prince.

"I have a matter of business to discuss with you," the prince began. "A technicality that my father brought to my attention."

John inclined his head to the king, who answered the gesture.

"It seems," said the king in a deep, rumbling voice. "That Teyla has no family---and her father was killed by the Wraith. This presents a ceremonial problem of sorts."

"Problem?" John raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Prince Faegen picked it up. "You see, since Teyla so long perceived that I was dead, I must confirm with a woman's closest male relative that she is indeed free of any obligation that would prevent her from lawfully becoming my wife."

John looked at him sideways and cocked an eyebrow.

"So...where does that leave me?"

Teyla held her breath.

"Teyla has informed me," the prince replied. "That you have declared her to be almost family---and seeing that this is the case, by your own admission, I must ask confirmation of _you_." John said nothing for a moment, and glanced briefly at Teyla.

"Just out of...curiosity," John began experimentally. "What if she _had _entered into an...understanding of some sort? What do your laws say about that?"

"That is why we are accustomed to asking the closest _male _relative," the king revealed. "I do not know the customs of your people---though I cannot imagine that they are much different---but our laws say that this relative must fight her betrothed for the right to keep her hand free for someone else. Or, in your case," the king chuckled and gestured to John's broken arm. "If the relative is unable to fight, the man who made the _declaration _of the intent of marriage may fight the betrothed."

"What...sort of fight?" John asked uneasily.

"Two bantos sticks," the prince informed him. He shrugged. "Or one; whichever is the fighter's preference. Whoever strikes in a fatal place first wins her." The prince drew himself up to his full height. "It is a first-blood fight. In our history, only a few have died in such a duel. But the point is that the challenger must prove that the betrothed is not worthy of the lady's hand."

John said nothing, but Teyla saw him subtly look the strong, tall form of the prince over. "I see," John said quietly, and absently reached up and adjusted his arm in its sling. "Well that sounds sorta...medieval."

"What?" The king's brow furrowed. John looked up at him. His gaze was hollow.

"Nothing," John murmured. "Never mind." John searched the face of the old king, and then the prince, and at last his eyes rested on Teyla. She could not breathe or move or think. He took a breath, as if to say something, then stopped. He took another breath, which shook. He blinked and his eyes misted. He turned his head briskly to the prince.

"I think..." he began roughly. "...that if anyone deserves Teyla...it would be a prince."

Prince Faegen smiled graciously and nodded to him.

"Thank you, Colonel Sheppard. That is a great compliment."

"No problem," John answered crisply, and before Teyla knew it, he had turned and walked away, weaving through the people until she could not see him. She stood for a moment, filling with disbelief and horror.

And then her heart screamed. She _almost_ jerked herself away from Faegen, almost lunged after John and grabbed his knees---_almost _begged him, almost wailed his name...

But it was too late. He had left her.

So she did nothing.

In a moment, all of her blood ran cold. She turned to Faegen and heard her own voice through a thick haze.

"Forgive me---I will be right back." And she stepped away, opposite the direction John had taken, and quickly made her way toward a doorway and then out into a darkened corridor. She strode five quick steps away from the banquet, then fell back against the wall, clamping a hand over her mouth. Her breaths would not come. She felt as if she was going to be sick. Teyla turned slightly to the side, leaning her shoulder against the cold metal, striving to control her shivering muscles. She did not notice when someone came to stand before her until he said her name.

"Teyla?"

She yanked her head up to see the dark, broad-shouldered form of Ronon standing there. She quickly dropped her hand and attempted to regain her composure.

"Ronon," she gasped, her throat choking her despite her efforts.

"Are you okay?" he murmured.

"Yes, yes, I am fine," she said quickly. "I just...I..."

She was not fine. And this time, no matter how strong she was, she could not pretend otherwise. He reached out a warm hand and rested it on her shoulder.

She broke down. Covering her face in her hands, she leaned forward into Ronon's chest and sobbed hard.


	5. Chapter 5

5) Thanks so much for all the reviews! They've been very encouraging!

Note: the song in this section is a madrigal; I did not write it.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

John left the banquet hall. He could not stand to be inside anymore. Sweeping through the hallways, he finally arrived at the balcony where he and his team had often shared their few and brief quiet moments.

The cool ocean breeze greeted him as the door hissed open, and he did not stop walking until he grabbed the cold metal railing of the balcony, leaned down and hung his head.

However, his solitude did not last for long.

The door swished open again, and he just had time to raise his eyes and recognize Ronon's towering figure before Ronon strode forward and struck him in the right side of the head.

Through the blaring sting, John realized that Ronon had only used the back of his hand. It still sent him reeling. He was so surprised he did not even cry out.

"If I didn't think it would kill you," Ronon snarled, his anger rumbling as if from the depths of a thunderstorm. "I'd beat you till you bled."

He waited a heartbeat, just until John managed to catch his balance, then lunged forward

and grabbed him by his tie. Baring his teeth, Ronon shook him viciously.

Fury finally conquering his shock, John clamped his hand around Ronon's wrist and threw his weight against him.

"What is _wrong _with you?!" John roared.

"What is wrong with _you_, Sheppard?" Ronon bellowed, his eyes blazing, even in the dim light. He did not release his hold. "Do you have _any idea _what you just did to her?"

John stilled. His jaw tightened, but he suddenly could say nothing. Monstrously frustrated, Ronon shoved him away, whirled around and stood, his head bowed in a deadly, accusing manner. John stared at him, bewildered.

"Ronon..._what do you want me to do?!"_ he finally burst out.

"You're gonna lose her!" Ronon raged, whipping back around. His breathing did not quiet, but his tone did. "And you're letting her go without even a decent fight."

An indignant, defensive answer leaped into John's mouth---one that would have again denied even knowing what he meant---until a shaft of moonlight illuminated Ronon's face, revealing a strange, startling mixture of scorn, anger, and earnest sadness. John's words died. For a moment, the two just stood there. Then John reached up and jerked on his necktie, loosening it. "Why the heck did you hit me like that?" he demanded.

"I'm your friend," Ronon answered bluntly. "On Sateda, this is what friends do."

"I don't think I like that," John decided tightly.

"I know you don't," Ronon answered. "That's why it's so important."

John turned away from him and grabbed the railing again, glowering fiercely out onto the dark waters. He knew Ronon was not going to hit him again.

Ronon gradually approached and took hold of the railing in both his hands. Neither said anything for a moment, allowing the heat of their tempers to die down. The only sound was the distant lashing of the waves against the base of the city. Finally, Ronon sighed.

"You can't let her marry him, John."

John slapped the railing.

"Oh, and what am I _supposed _to do?" he questioned harshly. "You want me to _fight _that guy?" John gestured back the way they had come and barked out a laugh. "I have a _hole in my side_, plus a busted arm, and he's almost _seven feet tall _and built like _you!_ He'd kill me!"

"You'd fight him if you loved her," Ronon countered flatly, still facing the sea.

John had now heard more than enough on that subject.

"Listen, _I don't even know what that is!_" John told him urgently. "'Cause if I did, I wouldn't be _in _this mess."

"I'll tell you what it is---it's very simple." Ronon faced him directly. "When she's unhappy, you're miserable. If she's in danger, you'd die for her. Period." Ronon leaned forward intently. "And you _do _know what I'm talking about."

John bit his lip and turned away, his heart raging.

"No, I don't," he said stubbornly.

"Yeah, you do," Ronon waved it away. "You wanna know how I know that?"

John simply stood silent.

"Because Teyla told me what happened down there in that silo," Ronon revealed. "You lost a ton of blood and almost froze to death. Teyla stayed with you. That's how you knew she loved you."

John looked at him sharply. Ronon nodded, a knowing glint in his eye.

"That's not all," he went on. _"Since _you knew she loved you, you knew that the _only_ way to get her to leave you behind was if you made that stupid promise that you'd come back to tell her something."

John felt like his chest was collapsing. Ronon did not ease up. Instead, he stepped forward and spoke with even more fervor.

"But that's only half of it, isn't it Sheppard?" he pressed. "Because _you _knew that, weak as you were, the _only_ thing that could get you to drag your half-dead carcass all the way back here was the idea that Teyla was sitting here waiting for you."

John stared at the ocean.

"Tell the truth, John," Ronon's voice lowered. "When you stood in front of her after you'd just come through the Gate, you still thought for sure that you were gonna die, didn't you?"

John did not answer for a very long time. Then, slowly, he nodded once.

"Yeah," he confessed in a whisper.

"So you thought, 'What do I have to lose? I might as well tell her now,'" Ronon went on. His tone darkened. "But then, when you woke up in the infirmary, only a little banged up... _you_..._got_..._scared_." Ronon pointed severely at him. "And then you just talked yourself out of the whole thing."

John felt as if he had swallowed glass. Ronon had practically just called him a coward---and he could offer no evidence to the contrary. Unexpectedly, Ronon gave a gruff laugh.

"You know Sheppard, I have to tell you that you're the bravest man I've ever met when you're sure you're gonna die. So I find it strange that you're also the sissiest man I've ever met when you're sure you're gonna live."

John made a sour face.

"I can't really...say thanks for a compliment like that."

"Nope," Ronon admitted. He regained seriousness. "The truth came out, John. I guess it just took this last time of you nearly biting the dust to get you to see it. Everybody else has known it for a really long time."

John's face heated up.

"You were ready enough to admit it when you didn't think you would have to commit to her," Ronon pointed out. "And like I said, you're brave," His voice quieted and he spoke deliberately. "But I've found out from experience...you need more bravery to _live _for her than to die for her."

Ronon said no more, but turned and soundlessly left the balcony, leaving John staring at the deep and barely-distinguishable horizon.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Are your things gathered?" Prince Faegen asked. He had walked Teyla back to her chambers to get the things she would need for the night and the following day. It was an old Luthrian tradition for the wedding party to spend the night in tents just near the place where the wedding would be performed. The bride's tent that night would be attended by several ladies who would make sure she had her quiet and got her rest, and the groom would spend his last evening as a bachelor with his father and friends, talking and sharing advice and stories around a fire. Thus, Prince Faegen's ships were to beam groups from Atlantis over to the mainland, and Teyla and the Prince were to be members of the first group.

Teyla's movements were almost constricted by her terrible sadness. She could barely force a smile anymore. Ardently, she wished that they were not leaving immediately. She wanted so badly to speak with John.

Teyla had been so afraid of him these past weeks---never before had she been so vulnerable to being hurt by one person---and so she had instinctively avoided him. But now the realization pounded into her with relentless insistence: she had _never told him_.

And now her last chance was gone.

"Yes. I am ready," she murmured, and listlessly took up her possessions.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Someone stood on the other side of John's door. He lay there in the dark, flat on his back, staring sightlessly at the empty space above him.

"Come in," he permitted hoarsely, though it took great effort. The entrance swished open, and a square beam of light fell across his bed. John recognized Rodney's silhouette on the ceiling. "Hey, are you...not coming?" Rodney asked tentatively. "'Cause the last group is beaming out now, and I thought that if you..."

John sighed deeply, rubbed his eyes, then covered them with his forearm.

"No, Rodney," he mumbled. "I'm not going."

"Oh."

Rodney hesitated.

"Listen, I..." he attempted. "I'm sorry about...the way this turned out. I'm sure it...didn't go the way you wanted it to."

John's only response was to close his hand into a loose fist and rub his forefinger with his thumb. Rodney took a sharp breath.

"And I'm really, _really _sorry that I...that I picked on you and told everyone what you said about Teyla and---"

John lowered his arm and turned his head toward his suffering friend.

"Hey, it's okay, Rodney," John managed a small smile. "It's my fault, not yours."

Rodney swallowed and nodded uncertainly.

"Okay."

"Go have fun." John adjusted his shoulders and put his forearm over his eyes again. "Tell me about it when you get back."

"All right. Try to...get some sleep," Rodney advised, as if he did not know what else to say, and shut the door as he departed.

After Rodney's footsteps died away, John was alone. The city held a deathly stillness---down to a skeleton crew, now. All the chambers around him sat empty.

Darkness and silence closed over him like a shroud. And without warning, a chasm opened in his heart. He gasped painfully and pushed his fist into the bridge o his nose, as if he had been wounded. For a moment, he could not decipher the surging malestorm of emotions that assailed him from the depths of his consciousness---but then a simple answer rushed through him that increased his anguish even more:

He missed Teyla _so much_.

For two weeks he had not heard her speak his name, had not seen her smile at him, or tease him, or solemnly assure him that football was a silly sport, that the Fantastic Four made no sense---or that they would all work everything out and that it would all be okay in the end.

John sat up, his heart pounding. He could not lie just keep lying here. He was sick of tip-toeing around and incapable of being logical anymore. Tomorrow morning---_tomorrow!----_Teyla would belong to another man. Then the new couple would leave for Luthria---and John doubted he would ever see her again.

He got up and began struggling to change clothes with one hand. He _would_ see her again. He _would_ hear her say his name. He _would_ watch her smile. Just one more time. Just for a few minutes. And he would be hanged before some prince would begrudge him those three things.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

He landed the Puddle-Jumper far enough away from the camp that it would not draw attention. He had thrown on his dark work pants, a black t-shirt and his combat boots, all of which were much less strangling than his dress clothes.

As he strode out into the darkness, the sounds of tree-frogs, the wind in the leaves, and the rush of the surf surrounded him---the camp was not a far distance from the beach.

As he approached the glow of the fires, he picked out some soft, stringed music, laughter, and conversation. He also smelled meat cooking. Absently, he thought it was strange that he had not run into any guards yet. If he had been a Wraith---

Wait. He had forgotten about the Luthrians' immunity. To them, Wraith were no more than ugly guys with stinky ships. There were enough Luthrians in this camp to handle a few Wraith---not to mention the three friendly Hive ships that orbited the planet.

Distantly occupied with that, John passed through a thick grove of trees and abruptly fell upon Prince Faegen's family campfire. He jerked to a halt.

The prince and the king, both wearing simple, leather and cloth garb this time, glanced up at him in surprise. On either side of the royals sat a few other dignitaries that John vaguely recognized from the dinner. The prince, who had been in the middle of handing a mug to his father, spoke first.

"Colonel Sheppard! I did not think you were coming this evening."

"Well, the doc says I need to get rest in a real bed," he bluffed. "I just...needed to talk to Teyla real quick. Where is she?"

One of the dignitaries, who looked to be about a hundred-fifty years old, furrowed his wrinkled brow.

"Is that customary? Is a man allowed to see the bride before the wedding?"

The king and prince were amused.

"Allirion, this is her guardian---don't you remember?" the prince wondered.

"Go right ahead, Colonel Sheppard. She's in the farthest tent," the king pointed behind him, chuckling. "After all, as of tonight, she's still yours!"

An aching pang needled its way up and down John's chest.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Thanks."

Carefully, he maneuvered around the edge of the fire, cleared it and strode through the camp. Athosians and Luthrians alike sat around similar blazes, eating and drinking more, and playing instruments. He caught sight of a few Atlantians, but steered clear of them. The tents formed a perimeter around the clearing, and it did not take long for him to recognize the bridal tent.

The tan-colored tent had been constructed in a secluded spot, and was much larger than the others. Pink flowers and emerald garlands adorned its peak, and hung down by the entrance. Two prettily-dressed women sat outside, though not too close to the tent flap. They held spears, which John found odd, and they spoke quietly to each other. When they caught sight of him, they soundlessly rose to their feet.

"Tread softly, sir," one of them advised in a whisper. "The bride is wishing to sleep."

"Yeah, I know." John felt awkward, and spoke just as softly. "I...I'm Colonel Sheppard...her guardian...and I...I just wanted to talk to her for a little bit."

"Oh!" the second girl raised her eyebrows. "Well, by all means. We will leave you to it,then." And with only a whisper of movement, they departed like shadows.

John's heartbeat sped up as he stepped toward the tent. His hand reached out to push aside the flap---then stopped when he heard a voice within.

It was Teyla. He had known that she possessed a beautiful singing voice, but had never actually listened to her. Now, she sang softly to herself, in a tune sweet, soft and melancholy.

_Say, dear, will you not have me?_

_Here then, here take_

_The kiss you once gave me._

_You elsewhere, perhaps, think to bestow it._

_Or if you will not_

_Or if you will not so take_

_The thing once given,_

_Let me_

_Kiss you._

_Let me, I say, kiss you._

_And so we shall be even. _

John's hand closed and he lowered his head. He heard her sigh deeply and murmur something to herself, but he could not distinguish words. He waited a moment, so as not to give away the fact he had been eavesdropping; then, biting his lip, he stepped forward and pushed the tent flap aside.

Teyla sat on a short, wooden stool, combing out her hair. She wore a comfortably fitting dark-blue night-dress that flowed all the way down to her bare feet. She jumped slightly, startled, turned and saw him.

She beamed---again, as if she could not help it. It lit up her whole face with wistful affection.

"John!" she cried softly.

"Hi, Teyla," he murmured, losing his color. Technically, he ought to have left right then, for he had seen her, watched her smile and heard his name. But in that instant, wild bulls could not have uprooted his feet from that spot.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned unsteadily, setting her brush down on a small table beside the canopied bed.

He shrugged, at a loss, but could not take his eyes from her.

"Well, uh...This is the last night that you're...I mean..." He looked up to her for help, but she only watched him earnestly. He gulped.

"I just thought that...Well, for as long as..." He almost said _For as long as you're mine_---but no matter what the Luthrian king said, she wasn't. He had not claimed her. He had lost her, just like Ronon said.

"As long as you're not busy---" he attempted lamely.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

John jerked his head up at her suggestion, and found himself answering quickly.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds...That'll work."

"Very well," she smiled shakily. "The beach is not far from here."

She pushed aside the tent flap and exited, but waited for him. He emerged gingerly, and Teyla began padding softly through the forest toward the rush of the surf. John hesitated, casting a wary glance around. He wondered what Prince Faegen would think if he saw John following Teyla into the forest---wondered what he would do.

He turned, blinking. Teyla had vanished into the dark.

"Teyla!" he called softly, hurrying after her. Night swallowed him as soon as he left the circle of tents, and he realized in alarm that he had no idea where she had gone.

"Here," came a voice at his shoulder---and then out of the cool darkness, her warm fingers clasped his. He instantly squeezed her hand. She pulled on him and he followed, treading in her footsteps.

Then, all of a sudden, they stepped out onto the beach. The moonlight shone brilliantly tonight, dancing serenely off the waves and illuminating the beach in a soft glow. John's feet sank into the fine sand right beside Teyla's. She let go of his hand, and ventured out toward the waves. The foam surged up over her ankles, and she silently watched the water, saying nothing. The silence between them tightened John's gut. However, he could not think of anything to break it. He just gazed at her graceful, moon-kissed features, then had to look away. It pained him to imagine how much he would miss them.

"Do you wanna...walk a little bit?" he offered. She turned slightly and granted him another smile. Grief raced up and down within his chest. Her smiles now were killing him.

"Yes," she answered simply, and fell into step beside him as he started to stroll down the ribbon of sand. For a long while, they said nothing, but at least they had a bit of an occupation.

"This reminds me of a place I knew when I was young," Teyla finally mused, the whisper of the waves accompanying the sadness in her tone. "My friends and I would run races up and down the beach in our bare feet." She chuckled softly. "I miss that."

John's brow furrowed. Suddenly, he was not embarrassed to try something crazy and reckless if it would just make her feel a little better.

"Actually, that sounds like a good idea," he said impulsively, plopped down on the sand and began untying his boot.

"What?" Teyla exclaimed.

"You and me. I'll race ya,"

She blinked, still not following.

"You...You will pull out your stitches!" she protested.

"Aw, so what?" he scoffed, pulling off one boot and tossing it. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

Teyla hesitated a moment, and then a lighter tone entered her voice.

"You will die young, John Sheppard," she said flatly.

_What was that? The tiniest hint of a tease...?_

"Yeah, well," he went on, trying not to show how his heart had leaped. "I intend to go out with my boots on."

"Then why are you removing them?"

John felt a small smile, and forced it into a playful grin.

"It's a figure of speech! But I'm taking off my shoes so that we'll be even," he looked at her challengingly and tossed the other boot. "I wouldn't want to have _too _much of an advantage."

Teyla rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I see."

Biting his cheek with the effort, John tried to roll up his right pant leg so that he would not get his pants wet and water-logged.

"What is that?" Teyla wondered.

"What?"

"That," Teyla pointed to a scar right beneath his knee.

"Oh, an old injury I got playing football in highschool," John gingerly touched the place and flexed his foot.

"You got that," Teyla pointed. "Playing a game?"

"Yeah, sure," John nodded, starting to work on the other pant leg. "There are lot's of guys who get hurt a lot worse than this. Broken collar bones, dislocated shoulders, stuff like that." He shrugged. "I just happened to get my leg knocked out from under me with a guy's helmet."

"This sounds like a foolish game," Teyla concluded gravely.

"Oh, really?" John countered. "And we're somehow better here because we spend our free time whacking each other with wooden swords and bantos sticks and stuff?"

Teyla grinned.

"Maybe."

John met her eyes, and the smiles faded from both their faces. His heart surged, and he wanted so much to say something---_anything_...but he could not possibly form words.

He cleared his throat.

"Are you ready?" he asked instead of trying. She managed a skeptical look, willing to play along.

"I will not be taking you all the way back to the infirmary if you hurt yourself," she lied. He beamed mischievously again at her, making his eyebrows go up and down quickly in a devil-may-care expression.

"You won't have to," he assured her, and leaped up and began to run. He heard her yelp, then take off after him.

He had to admit---it did hurt his side and his arm. But he soon forgot about it as Teyla came up on his right side. With the sea wind rushing through their hair and clothes, their feet slapping the sand and the water splashing up against their skin as their feet struck, she matched his stride and speed perfectly, even when the waves washed high against their legs. As he ran, breathing deeply, he watched her. Nothing could compare to her easily dancing form, except perhaps a mythical nymph or water sprite.

"Look out," she abruptly warned. He jerked his head around front to see a large piece of driftwood lying across their path. As one, they reacted and leaped over it, though John landed a bit harder on the other side than Teyla did. He slowed to a halt, breathing heavily.

"Can you, like, see in the dark or something?" he panted. He could not see her very well, now. A cloud was passing over the moon. He only perceived her shape, just a bit farther down the beach than he.

"I can see no better in the dark than you, Sheppard," she replied, her breathing only a little irregular.

"Coulda fooled me," he put a hand to his side and gingerly touched his wound. It had held. "I mean, you did a pretty good job down in the silo...patching me up, working on the

door..." His voice quieted. "I couldn't see anything down there. Just you, once in a while...and the snow..." He trailed off and swallowed. The very _last _thing he had planned on discussing right now was anything that had happened in that cold, black void---but now he found he could think of nothing else. He perceived Teyla lowering her head.

"Thanks, Teyla," he murmured.

"For what, John?" she whispered, her voice almost lost in the waves.

"For...staying down there with me. Not letting me give up. You've...always been great. So thanks."

"It was no trouble, Colonel Sheppard," she told him brokenly.

Oh, no. She was crying.

"Teyla, don't," he sighed, walking past her so that he no longer faced her and rubbing his eyes. He could not stand now to even see her outline. "I...I can't..." Words failed him yet again. He just stood, more helpless now than ever in his life. He heard nothing for several seconds, and it seemed as if she had disappeared into thin air.

Then, unexpectedly, he felt her slide her arms around his chest from behind. Seamlessly, she avoided his injury and nuzzled her head against the middle of his back, as if in an effort to hear his heartbeat. The warmth of her body fit perfectly against his, as if she had been made to be thus pressed to him. It stopped him completely.

Saying nothing, she just held him for what seemed like an eternity. With each moment that she kept her arms around him, his defenses took a mighty blow, and his foundations finally began to shake.

With trembling hands, he reached down and covered hers, feeling the softness of her fingers. He so wanted to say something---

He felt her take a breath.

"I love you, John Sheppard," she whispered with fervent, tender affection. And then she was gone. Her warm arms pulled out from around him and he felt a terrible chill. Turning around, he caught the barest glimpse of her disappearing into the dark forest again.

Stricken, he lowered down to the sand and sat, paying no heed to the water that rushed over his feet.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Note: Fear not! This is not the end...


	6. Chapter 6

6) Words cannot express my gratitude for all of your encouraging reviews! I hope that this last chapter lives up to all of your expectations. Let me know what you think!

Dawn found Teyla awake. She had watched the shifting ceiling of her tent from her bed all night, listening to the wind through the leaves and the distant hum of the ocean. She had to confess that her cracked rib had given her distress as she had run that race, and as she tried to sleep now it was punishing her for her exertion. However, she would not have declined John's playful challenge for the worlds.

The ache of her injury kept her awake, but so also did remembering when she had hugged him. A certain scent, some sort of cologne, had hung about his shirt. All night long, she had striven to banish all images, all thoughts of him from her mind---but the memory of that smell stubbornly remained, nearly driving her mad with longing.

Finally, as the sun broke over the horizon, her newly-acquired lady's maids entered cheerily, bringing her breakfast.

Teyla forced herself to get up and eat, and afterward, with great ceremony, several women brought in Teyla's wedding gown.

It was a light, soft shade of yellow with a full skirt, the back of which trailed at least eight feet behind. White beads in intricate designs adorned the bodice and hem, and the sleeves had been cut to be short, modest and dainty. Though Teyla was unaccustomed to such Luthrian finery, all of the ladies agreed that the style flattered her beautifully---she looked stunning in such a gown, they said. One of the deft-fingered ladies dressed her hair in a style that kept it up off her neck, but let some strands fall elegantly down. They also found yellow and white flowers to place amidst her shining locks.

A full-length mirror was brought in for her and she stood barefoot before it, looking herself up and down. Had she ever looked so beautiful and so sad at the same time? She took an agonized breath. If there had ever been a moment in her life when she wished she would just die---this was that moment.

"What is the matter, miss?" one of the ladies inquired in concern. Teyla swiped at her eyes.

"Nothing is wrong," she tried to tell her.

"You are happy, miss? Is that why you cry?" the maid guessed hopefully.

Happy? No. Not happy. But she had found the courage to tell John Sheppard that she loved him, and he had heard and understood. She could bear anything, now.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Morning light danced across the ocean, dazzling Teyla's eyes as she followed her lady's maids near the edge of the cliff, trailed by the noisy, merry wedding party. Musicians plucked stringed instruments in lively tunes, and two or three of them sang.

Teyla wore no shoes, and the dew of the grass felt cold against her feet. Her maids picked up the train of her skirt for now, so it would not catch on anything. The fresh breeze of the morning blew through the leaves and the grass and all of their clothes, making the trees laugh. Hundreds of birds greeted the dawn, bursting into twittering song and flitting from branch to branch. The sun shone full and bright, and there were no clouds. It was a perfect day for a wedding.

Teyla walked slowly, as if to the scaffold.

She had asked Rodney, Elizabeth, Ronon and Dr. Keller to please leave her alone, and so, rather grimly, they brought up the back of the party, their dour, sad faces in stark contrast to the day.

Teyla turned and faced the fortress ruins where the ceremony was to be conducted. Though the building was ancient, its walls were still mostly intact. Banners, garlands and ribbons hung from the turrets, and everyone around her exclaimed how lovely the place looked in the brilliant morning.

Teyla refused to weep.

She approached the door, and gazed through it into the long room that awaited her. At the far end stood the regally-garbed sacred man who would perform the formalities, and also the king and his entourage. Just to the sacred man's right was shining Prince Faegen, straight as a beech tree, the long train of his scarlet cloak rippling over the young, emerald grass, and bedecked in glittering jewels. He looked incredibly handsome and ruggedly serious.

Teyla suddenly froze. She waited.

Over and over, when she had pictured this moment in her mind's eye, she had stopped just at this point---and then she imagined a voice calling out to her.

_Teyla!_ He would call. _Wait!_ A voice uncultured, yes, but honest and gentle and earnest, would ring out over the hills. A voice that would interrupt this nightmare and save her from this fate. John's voice. _Her John_.

She waited.

Nothing happened. All that greeted her ears was more singing from the musicians behind her, the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds.

"Why are you stopping here?" an older man questioned, smiling. "Your prince waits for you inside!"

A stabbing pain lanced through her chest, but Teyla made herself stride forward and pass through the slight shadow of the doorway. The stone room and its decorations, the whirling and dancing of the party as they entered, even Prince Faegen himself became a blur as she walked numbly but forcefully toward the sacred man.

And all of a sudden she had ascended three steps to a platform and was there, right by the Prince's side. He smiled at her. She could not return it. All of the party settled in behind them, quieting their chatter to hear what the wizened, old sacred man would say in his opening speech.

"To begin, I would ask this: Teyla Emmagan of Athos and Atlantis," the sacred man started. "Please take the hand of Prince Faegen of Luthria."

Prince Faegen extended his broad, strong hand to her. She stared at it, knowing full well that the moment she took it, she would seal her fate. Teyla lifted a shaking hand.

"Teyla!"

She blinked. That voice---it was distant and strained, but still sounded so much like the one in her dreams...

"Teyla, wait! _Wait a second!_"

Her heart gave a dreadful _bang _inside her, an electric thrill darted through her veins. She jerked her hand back. She whipped her head around to squint through the sunlit door---only to have her eyes widen at the sight of John Sheppard's silhouette reaching the peak of the hill.

"John," she wanted to say, but barely managed a hoarse whisper. She wanted to pinch herself. Surely he was not here, doing this---

"Teyla..." he gasped, trotting closer, and now she could see him fully. He still wore no shoes, and his pant legs were dirty up to his knees; he bore no sling---only his cast---and he carried three bantos sticks in his good hand. His black hair was in disarray, he was pale and dark under his eyes, he had not shaved, and in his brilliant hazel eyes shone a half-crazed desperation and undisguised vulnerability. He captivated her.

He slowed to a halt, staring at her, breathless. Then, he took a deep, preparatory breath and looked sharply at Prince Faegen.

"I changed my mind."

No one moved. Prince Faegen's brow furrowed.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm her guardian---I have a right to do that, don't I?" John asked loudly. Prince Faegen glanced, confused, at his father, then turned intently back to John.

"On what grounds?"

"I don't think you're worthy of her," John answered back simply. He tossed two of the bantos sticks down before the prince. They clattered on the ground. "And so I'll fight you for

her."

Prince Faegen studied the weapons at his feet for a moment, then cocked an eyebrow at John.

"You are injured."

John flashed a grin.

"You scared?" He twirled his bantos stick. Prince Faegen's jaw tightened. Seeing that there was nothing to be done, he reached up and unhooked his cloak, letting it cascade to the ground. Underneath, he wore a tunic, loose pants and boots which, though admittedly royal, would suffice for a fight. He reached down and picked up the bantos sticks, thought a moment, then tossed one aside.

"What's that?" John demanded.

"You only have one," Faegen pointed out. "I will have no unfair advantage that I can

help."

The crowd backed up hastily, murmuring and gasping in shock, disbelieving that this could actually be happening at a wedding! Teyla was no better off than they. In fact, she felt uncharacteristically faint.

The two combatants circled each other on the patch of young grass, Faegen like a composed, ginger lion, John like a cornered wolf.

"Remember, it's first blood," The prince reminded John. "The first one to strike in a fatal place wins."

"Yeah, I remember." In an eyeblink, John attacked. The room echoed with the violent _clacking _of the sticks against each other. The guests gasped at the lightning speed with which they both struck and countered.

A moment later, they came apart, once again circling. Teyla gazed at John in admiration. He was focusing hard, incorporating everything she had taught him. She hoped fervently it would be enough.

Once more, John lunged at the careful prince. The noise of the battle banged against the walls. Their footwork was matched. If John had been healthy, it could have been an equal duel.

Prince Faegen sidestepped nimbly and aimed a blow at John's head. John twisted, just in time, and so Faegen only landed a glancing blow to John's right shoulder. John staggered back, wincing. He had been forced to use the muscles on his left side to dodge that blow, and it had hurt him.

Teyla's gaze urgently found Ronon, who stood in the far corner. But she knew in an instant he would be no help. He just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a knowing grin spread all over his face. She bit her lip and returned her attention to the scrap. She would have to trust in John's ability to defend himself, and in Prince Faegen's goodness that would not allow him to take advantage of John's pain.

Indeed, he did not. When he noticed John grimacing, Faegen backed up. However, this gentler treatment appeared to make John angry, for he attacked with a greater ferocity, his weapon flashing so quickly the prince could not track it, and caught Faegen hard in the left elbow. Faegen sprang backward, startled---then fire blazed in his eyes. Teyla sensed that he was finished being gentle.

John gave the prince a deadly look, which was this time returned, and then the duelists came at each other roaring.

Teyla held her breath. Back and forth, they endlessly dodged and struck and countered and parried, grunting and crying out in frustration. The scrum seemed endless. Both heated warriors seemed intent on nearly killing the other.

It happened so quickly that Teyla almost missed it. Faegen executed a whirling move she had never learned---and John only had time to jerk slightly in surprise before his bantos stick was knocked out of his hand. Faegen cracked him soundly on the right side of the head. John went down like he was made of lead.

Faegen withdrew. The hall fell silent. Teyla's first impulse was to run to John's side, but remembering how enraged he had been at Faegen's softer treatment, she did not think that was wise.

It soon became evident that he was not unconscious. He groaned deeply and his brow furrowed dimly. He put an uncertain hand up to his right cheekbone, perhaps wondering if the prince had broken his face.

Squinting his right eye shut, John heaved himself up so he propped up on his elbow, and took a gasping breath.

"Now that I have bested you, do you still think I am unworthy?" the prince wondered darkly.

"Yeah," John got out. Now Prince Faegen was thoroughly bewildered.

"Colonel Sheppard, I do not understand," he confessed, throwing down his weapon.

"Well, I have rules about what makes a guy worthy of having Teyla, here," John indicated Teyla, then managed to get up onto his knees, then stand up unsteadily. However, no one touched him.

"And what are they?" Prince Faegen asked impatiently. "I am willing to take care of her, give her anything she desires; I will not treat her cruelly, or deprive her in any way. She shall be the most honored woman of all my people. What, then, are your terms, Colonel Sheppard?!"

"She has to be happy," John stated, opening both eyes and meeting the prince's gaze directly. "You don't love her. And she doesn't love you. She loves someone else...and someone else loves her." His gaze flicked over to meet hers. Teyla's throat closed. He went on.

"If she was in danger, I'm not sure you would die for her. And if she was unhappy, I don't think you'd be all that miserable," he told him plainly. "So, I think that the guy who loves her, and the guy she loves, would be the best judge of how to make her happy." John shrugged. "So I don't care if you kicked my butt." He leveled a firm stare at the prince. "I'm not letting you marry her when I know she'll just be unhappy."

The prince's eyes narrowed. Slowly, he stalked up to stand before John, his eyes full of scrutiny. John, though unsettled, did not step back, and did not break eye contact. Faegen studied his face. He spoke.

"It is _you_, isn't it, Colonel Sheppard?" he questioned deliberately. "_You_ are the man who loves her...and who she loves!"

A murmur of great surprise fluttered through the room. Color rushed into John's cheeks but he did not back down.

"What if I am?" he asked defensively. Prince Faegen stared at him for just another moment. Then his face cleared and he burst out laughing. John jerked.

"Colonel Sheppard, why did you not tell me?" the prince crowed. "Though I asked you, you never spoke a word of this to me!"

"Well, I..." John stammered, shocked and blushing even more deeply. "You were betrothed to her, and you're a prince, so---"

Prince Faegen's face transformed into a picture of disbelief.

"And thus I am superior to _you_?" he finished. He threw his hands in the air. "Heaven above, Sheppard! It is _your _fame that is as far-flung as the stars! You---John Sheppard, Wraith-Slayer, explorer and military commander of Atlantis---not on equal footing with _me_, a prince who merely owns a few Wraith ships and has been blessed by fate with a fortunate immunity?" Faegen backed up a little and spoke earnestly. "It is _I _who have always felt inferior to _you_, Sheppard, though you may not have known it." His voice lowered. "Far be it from my honor to presume to take a woman that belongs to you."

John stood, stunned. The crowd around him erupted in comment, conversing so loudly that Teyla almost did not hear Prince Faegen speak over them into John's ear.

"Take her. Get her out of here---this place must be unpleasant for her."

John stared at him, still not quite believing it. Faegen grinned and shoved him Teyla's direction.

He stood before her now, slightly lower than she. She gazed down at him, waiting. For just a split second, she feared he was about to disappoint her again.

He lifted his hand, palm up, and held it out to her. Hesitating just a moment, she reached out and placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers.

And all of a sudden, he wordlessly turned around and pulled on her. She easily hopped down the stairs and trotted hand-in-hand after him, much to the further bemusement of the guests. They passed through the forbidding doorway and burst out into the brilliant morning.

Ronon, standing near Elizabeth and Rodney in the corner, watched them go and chuckled to himself.

"Well, I guess we know how to change Sheppard's mind about something," Ronon sneered. "Hit him in the side of the head twice."

"Twice?" Elizabeth and Rodney both said at once. Ronon shook his head.

"Never mind."

John led Teyla down a different path, toward a grassy cliff away from the ruins, her train billowing behind her. The view of the vast ocean here was spectacular, and behind them spread a flowering meadow. Finally he slowed to a stop and turned around, letting go of her hand and meeting her eyes. A soft breeze toyed with his unruly hair, and the sunshine set his face aglow. Teyla waited for him to speak.

However, somehow, John had finally realized that while his strength did not lie in his speech, his actions could be far more powerful and eloquent than any words. Thus, he stood about a pace in front of her, closed his eyes, and slowly, deliberately, lowered his head.

Tears sprang to Teyla's eyes. The purposeful way in which he had done that showed without a doubt that he knew what it meant.

Her heart swelling and surging, Teyla took a small step toward him, and tenderly pressed her lips to his bruised cheek where Prince Faegen had just struck him.She shifted slightly and kissed his soft, closed eyelid. She tasted tears.

A pang running through her, she took his face in her hands, drew forward and pressed her forehead to his, speaking aloud the traditionally-unspoken answer to his gesture.

"By my heart and by my life," she whispered ardently. "Your heart and life are safe with me."

He drew in a sharp, shaking breath, and slowly lowered his head so it pressed against the side of her neck. She slid her arms up around his shoulders, and he wrapped his one good arm around her waist. The embrace, rather than filled with passion, was infinitely gentle, for each one was suddenly, keenly considerate of the injuries the other had sustained. Teyla could have remained there forever, basking in his warm arms.

"Teyla," he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Teyla, are you

happy?" He swallowed hard. "That's all I really care about, you know. I know now that I couldn't stand it if you weren't."

He withdrew a little, wanting to see her face. He was crying, and could not stop his tears. They glistened in his vibrant eyes and ran down his cheeks, catching the rays of sunshine. She had never seen him shed a tear before, but she had always known that the capacity for such strong tenderness had always been present in his heart. That was why she loved him.

She beamed up at him and brushed his tears away with her fingertips.

"Yes, John," she assured him. "You have made me very happy today."

Hearing this, John's eyes took on a new light, and he gently leaned into her. Softly, sweetly, with lips that tasted of happy tears, he kissed her.

EPILOGUE:

Two months later, Atlantis bustled with the second visit of Prince Faegen. He and his fleet had been in the area and asked if they could be permitted to drop in. His request had been granted without hesitation, now that John Sheppard could finally deem him a "pretty good guy," and was willing to count him among his friends.

The evening of arrival, all of them dined in the mess hall, but the tables remained in their original, separate arrangement. John, Teyla, Ronon and Rodney occupied a table that sat a little distance away from the crowded one Prince Faegen occupied.

John had recently been allowed to take off his cast, and was enjoying the use of his left arm again. He lifted a drink to his lips and glanced over at Prince Faegen's table. He saw the Prince and Elizabeth sitting next to each other, conversing animatedly.

"Hey," John nudged Teyla confidentially, grinning. "Look at Elizabeth and the prince. They're...getting along pretty well."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Rodney said in exasperation.

"You're kidding, right?" Ronon raised his eyebrows.

"You seriously think that _Elizabeth _would go out with a prince?" Rodney said skeptically.

"Sure, why not?" John countered as he went to take another drink. "She told me once that Cinderella was her favorite story."

Teyla cocked a warning eyebrow at him.

"Do not take to match-making, John. You did badly enough for yourself."

He swallowed quickly and put his cup down.

"I disagree," he protested. "I think I actually did quite well for myself." And he kissed her on the forehead. Contentedly, Teyla leaned her head onto his shoulder, smiling down at her glittering engagement ring.

THE END


End file.
